Smile Like You Mean It
by NoOtherAlias
Summary: What will happen when a sarcastic, damaged girl with a twisted mind meets the infamous Clown Prince Of Crime? The result can NOT be good..For either of them. [JokerxOC] [NOT a Mary-Sue] [Contains violence, blood, dark material, and all the things that goes with 'em]
1. Encounter Of The Worse Kind

**I'm a sucker for songtitles by The Killers.**

**Anywho, the beginning of a new story! Who else is excited? Just me? That's okay.**

**Cristism is wanted, good or bad! Leave a review if you want to make an author happy!**

* * *

I had never been right in the head.

When I was a little girl, I would rip the heads off my babies. Tear the arms and legs from my babydolls, and once I even gave another little girl a cut for threatening to tell her mom that I stepped on her new _Mary Janes._

That was in kindergarten.

Now I'm eighteen years old. Enough to vote, yet not to drink. Which was fine. Alcohol had been the main factor that had shattered my family apart.

You could say, things have been traumatic for me.

I've always been one to keep to myself, unless that's impossible and a reaction is inevitable. I don't talk to people unless they talk to me, and they should all know to leave me alone.

I'm happier that way.

I had graduated highschool in the spring with average grades. It wasn't that I wasn't smart, I just didn't invest myself much. I mean, what's the point anyways? Not much you can do with a broken life.

My hood was pulled up as I walked down 6th Avenue, the pocket of my hoodie was filled with my hands. I didn't stand out, I was only wearing a navy blue sweatshirt and jeans.

And yet, somehow, I had gotten the short end of the stick. We'll get to that later.

Footsteps approached me, and I didn't think anything of it at the time. After all, it was daylight, so who would try anything when the sun was out? Not many people were out today, most were at work, probably. It had to have been at least 3:00.

Anyways, the sound of feet hitting the sidewalk got louder and it sounded like the person had broken out into a light jog. I tilted my head to look at the stranger, only to get knocked to the ground. My body landed on the sidewalk with a light '_thud_', and the thug had broke out into a sprint and disappeared out of my sight.

"Asshole.." I muttered, patting the dirt off the back of my jeans. Rude ass idiots who were raised without manners somehow never made my day any better.

And it turned out, he had taken my wallet from my back pocket. Great.

So much for going to the bookstore. Turns out, I'd have to visit the bank first. Something I was not looking forward to, after all that had happened months before.

But it was safe, right? The Joker hadn't been seen for a while, so it was unlikely that I would see him on an odd day like this.

My hood had fallen down as a result of being knocked on my ass, so I pulled it back up and jogged to Gotham National, not stopping to walk the whole twelve blocks.

Hurrying inside the large building, and walking through the revolving door, I had a bad feeling. I paused in front of the doorway and looked around at my surroundings. People were standing in lines at the desks, phones were ringing, everything was normal.  
Until I, once again, got knocked down from behind.

"God dammit! That's the second time today!" I cried, exasperated and completely ticked off. I had landed off to the side of where I had been standing. I was okay, though. My arm had broken my fall.

"Is today National Shove the girl in the blue hoodie down day? Because I _damn_ well didn't get the memo!"

A gun shot was fired out, and I paused my rant to look up for the first time since falling. I was met with, to my shock, clown masks swimming all through my vision. The masked criminals spread out throughout the bank and yelled demands to the workers and innocent bystanders.

"You've got to be_ kidding_ me.." I mumbled, laying on my back and rubbing my forehead with my hands. We all knew what those masks symbolized in this town, or better yet, who they symbolized. Two men (I think) were pointing their guns at me and yelled at me to stand up for reasons unknown.

Being the smart ass and idiot I was, I replied with,  
"I thought in these situations, the bank robbers told the people to get on the ground?"

Laughter rang out from a location unknown, and everyone in the large space had seemed to freeze, including the clowns. A figure clad in purple and greasepaint emerged through the doors, emitting a loud, nasally chuckle as he made his way over to the spot I was laying.

The Joker was even more frightening in person.

"A gal with a sense of humor," he mused, toying with the unopened switchblade in his gloved hand. "Especially in a situation like this! I respect-_ah_ that, kidd-_o_."

He bared his yellow teeth at me in a grin, his Glasgow smile almost touching his eyes, and I wondered for second or two how much smiling with those scars would hurt.

The room was still silent, his goons clearly not knowing what to do now that the Boss was here. The Joker paused, raised his eyebrows, and craned his head around to look genuinely curious at his men.

The got the message, and resumed doing their job of frightening the desperate people while other clowns worked the vault.

Meanwhile, it had looked like I had gained the attention of the most wanted man in the history of this city. I was always told that my mouth would get me into trouble.

"Sorryyy about the interr-_up_-tion, cupcake. Let's get bac_k_ to where we were, hmmm?"  
At this point, I had adjusted to a sitting position, and even though he was squatting down, he had a good amount of inches on me. I held his eyes with mine as he spoke, which he must not get a lot, because even though his face remained flat with the permanent smile, his eyes gave away his amusement.

"Allow me to ah, in-tro-_duce_ myself. I'm the Joker." His tone was laced with false kindness, and he motioned to himself when the last part of the sentence was spoken. "And who," he drawled, swiping his tongue at the edge of his mouth, tonging at the scars, "are you?"

"I'm just somebody who came to the wrong bank on the wrong day."

My lack of a real answer made his face twitch. In one quick motion, to fast for me to react, he had brought the edge of his knife to the corner of my mouth while he other hand secured my head in place. When did he have time to flick open his blade and put it in my mouth without me even seeing? Cocking his head to the side, and working his mouth, he began to speak again, in a more rushed voice.

"You look like a_ Sara_. So, Sara.  
Do you want to knowww how I got these scars_-ah_?"

The infamous scar stories, told to the victim right before they died. He didn't wait for my answer, and cleared his throat before starting his story.

His hand cradling the back of my head tightened its hold, and my vision blurred. I blinked, and it came back, but his grip hadn't let up in the slightest.

"Once, I was -"

"Boss, the money's loaded up, and the police 'er on their way." Moments later, sirens could be faintly heard making their way to the bank. The Joker turned to look at the messenger clown, pulled out a gun from his purple trenchcoat and shot him square in the head, before turning back to me and crinkling his face with a smile as if stuff like that happened everyday.

Which, to him, it probably did.

"Looks like story time is going to have to _wait-ah_ for lat_errr_.. Don't look so _sad_, Saraaa." He drew out the fake name into a somewhat of a purr in the back of his throat. With the blade still in my mouth, he leaned his head forward, putting his lips just above my ear, our faces were inches apart, and the smell of gasoline and a coppery kind of scent presented itself to my senses.

His breath tickled my neck, and even though I wanted to cringe away, I stayed perfectly still as he whispered lowly, in a sing-song voice,  
"I'll see you s_ooooo_n."

* * *

**Will the Joker make good on his promise to see our main character again? What story will he tell her if he does see her again?**

**Stay tuned to find out!**

**... Lame, I know ^ ha. Leave a review, I mean, nothing makes me happier than seeing another person's opinion on my writing! Don't be shy, I can see you! Yes, you!**


	2. Reunited And It Feels So Bad

**New chapter's up! Hope you like it & reviewwww!**

**The next one should be up in a few days~**

**-NoOtherAlias**

* * *

Ever since my encounter with the Joker, my phone has been ringing off the hook.

The police, especially. Checking in on me to see if I'm okay, and if I've made contact with him again. The latter was mostly the main reason. News reporters, people interested in writing a book, and one annoying bitchy journalist by the name of Vicki Vale who felt the need to call me every five minutes.

I had become famous, because I should be dead.

After unplugging the phone cord from the wall, I could finally have some peace for the first time in what seemed like weeks.

I had barely slept since that day, and when I did finally manage to close my eyes, I always heard a sound.  
I guess when things aren't scaring you badly enough, your mind eventually starts to pitch in and help.

His voice still rang in my ears with that nasally, cold tone. Most nights, when I wasn't sleeping, I would lay in bed and just think of his accent alone. Where he could've gotten it, where he was from. And then the questions of who he really is would start, and I'd just lay awake thinking of all the possible answers.

It wasn't necessarily that I couldn't sleep, no. It's just that most nights, when my mind would turn to the Joker, I didn't have _time_ too.

Crazy, right?

They wouldn't have made me stay a summer at a hospital during my childhood if I wasn't.

I had just gotten home to my apartment from the library, carrying my favorite book series under my arm. Reading Harry Potter had always helped me during my time of need. I guess the thought of going away to live in a world full of magic, away from everyday life, appealed to me deeply.

Setting all seven books down, _(which, after carrying them for eight blocks, my arms ache_d) I padded my way down the hall and into the bathroom for a shower. The water running, at a temperature hot enough to steam up the mirror, as I stripped off my jeans and tshirt, and underwear of course.

The hot water felt good on my skin, waking me up from my sleepy state. I desperately needed a coffee after this. I poured shampoo into the palm of my hand and began massaging it into my long dark tresses.

_Would the Joker really make good on his promise to see me again?_ The chances of that were as good as me winning the lottery, and I didn't even play.  
No. He probably said that to unnerve me, to scare me.

For what reason? I had no idea. And I was glad I was probably never going to find out.

Rinsing the conditioner from my hair and switching the water off, I heard a sound.

My subconscious couldn't have made this one up, I know it.

_What could it be?_

I froze in place behind the curtain, digging my nails into the palm of my other hand; just waiting to see if I heard it again.

If I heard it twice in a row, then I knew my mind wasn't playing tricks on me.

Minutes passed, and I stood like a statue waiting anxiously.

_Nothing._

Sighing with relief, I stepped out the shower and grabbed a towel, wrapping it around myself. I paused to look in the mirror, looking over my body. The sight of my exposed arms and legs made me sad, and I knew if I didn't stop feeling this way I would have to start taking my pills again.

Again.

I headed for my room, which was directly next to the bathroom, and closed the door. Unwrapping the towel from my body, I made my way over to my dresser and put on a clean pair of black boyshort underwear and a black bra, underneath dark jeans and yet another hoodie. I didn't like short sleeve anythings.

I examined my bedroom with wary eyes. Nothing seemed out of order, it was still as messy as ever. My walls were naked, except for the god awful aqua wallpaper and my bookshelf. My bed, a full, was still unmade and the purple covers were pulled back and looked like I just slept there.

My floor still littered in clothes I needed to take down to the laundry room and wash.  
Everything looked normal, but felt totally out of whack.

Must just be my nerves.

"Jesus Christ, pull yourself together-"

_thump, thump._

Twice in a fucking row!

Going for the bat beside my nightstand, I held it, and gripped it like someone slipping off the edge of a building would grip the railing.

_Thud, thud._

They were footsteps. Quick, hurried footsteps. Slowly approaching the door, my bat that I got from some kid off the street, still in my hand. I reached a hand out and turned the doorknob, slowly, quietly, and flung the door open. I was tired of playing, of being afraid. This wasn't who I was.

I had never looked for a fight before in my life, but now, I felt like I needed one. The pain resulting from it could possibly snap me awake for good.

My bare feet crept down the small hallway that connected my bedroom and bathroom to the living room and kitchen, and entered the small room that held my couch and small tv. My dark eyes darted across the room, inspecting every inch for something out of order. Nothing.

And then I heard it. Before I could react, two strong arms put me in a headlock from behind. A voice, his voice spoke clearly into my ear. His tone was filled with curiosity and backed up by nonstop laughter.

"Does this smell like _chloroform_ to you?" He had asked, covering my face with a cloth. I breathed it in, unintentionally, and blacked out in his arms.

* * *

I felt groggy. My whole body ached, from head to toe. And I'm pretty sure I had a migraine. Nope, I'm positive.

"Ugh..." I groaned, trying to reach a hand to rub my forehead. I couldn't see through the dark, but I was pretty sure my hands were cuffed behind my back, and that I was laying on a mattress.

Oh yeah. I had almost forgotten that he kidnapped me. Swell.

Let's look on the bright side here. At least I had gotten some sleep.

_Sleep_.

I couldn't help it. Maybe it was my nerves, how they were all over the place. Or maybe it was how stressed out I was, or the current situation I was in.

But I laughed, and laughed, and laughed. I laughed until I was crying.

And that's when he walked in, and the lights were turned on. I laughed even harder.

He looked confused. Genuinely confused at my behavior, and how could he not be? I was laying on a mattress on the floor, with my hands behind my back, laughing with tears rolling down my cheeks. No reason to be enjoying anything, and yet looking like I was having the time of my life.

Remember me telling you about how I've never been right in the head?

Now you see what I mean.

His head was cocked to the side, and the ends of his lips twitched into a smile then returned to normal, as if he wasn't sure how to take this. We just stared at each other, only one of us laughing, and it wasn't the one you'd think.

Finally, he spoke.

"Normally, when people ah, see me, I get a differen_t_ reaction. What's so funny?" He walked forward and kept his head slightly tilted to the side. "Do I have something on my face-_ah_?"

It was a rhetorical question, because of course he did. I should've been laughing at that, instead of my thoughts. No, I shouldn't be laughing at all. But I always did laugh at the most inappropriate times.

My giggles ceased at once, and I blinked, clearing the wetness away from my eyes.

_Uh oh._

"I was rather _surprised_ when I heard giggling coming from this room. Screams, I expected. Calls for help, obvious-_ly_. That's what the normal person would've done. And then I got to thinking, and you're not really a normal person, are you, Saraaa?"

He's still using the fake name? Great. I waited, and watched him take a switchblade from his pocket. Strolling over and taking a rag off the desk next to the wall, next to me, he began to clean what looked like red liquid from it. I could only blink at the sight.

My mouth opened to say something, but as if he knew I'd reply, he scolded, "Now, that's ru_de_. No talking until after _I'm_ done, sweetcheeks!"

My eyes regarded him set the now bloodied cloth down, and now start to sharpen the blade against the edge of the desk. The sound of it scraping against the wood made the hairs on the back of my neck stand up.

"As I was _sayingg_," he continued, his voice changing back to the nonchalant tone. "I can just tell you're not normal. But then again, who is? Am I right? Of _course_ I am." He picked the blade up, turned it over and inspected it. I heard him make a '_tut_' noise and returned to sharpening it. "Do you remember the first time we me_t_? At the bank, right? Riiiight. How you back talked my henchmen even though they were pointing loaded AK's at you? How you hadn't even been scared for the '_innocent_' lives around you? That's when I realized.."

He paused, swiping the blade over his thumb. It drew blood and he put the tip of his thumb in his mouth and made a popping noise as he pulled it back out, the blood gone. "I realized that you, are. Just. Like. _Me_."

His voice got deeper, huskier by the last word. He had turned and stepped his way over next to the mattress, sitting on the edge right where I was.

I was sick. I _knew_ that. I knew something wasn't right with me. But I wasn't like the Joker, I _couldn't_ be like the Joker.

_You are, just admit it. Accept it..._

No, I won't!

_Stop denying it..._

_Yes, give in..._

_Accept it, accept it..._

"NO!" I screamed, kicking at his face and knocking him to the ground. It was his turn to laugh, if it was even a laugh. A hysterical cackle could be a better description for it.

I rolled onto the floor, and stood up, yet there I was. That was all I could do.  
God damn these handcuffs!

"A _fighter_. Just when I thought you couldn't get any more entertaining.." He mused, humming chuckles as he stood up and threw his knife to the other hand. His arms spread open, and he peered at me from under his eyebrows, as if signaling '_give me what you got_.'

I took the chance, not even thinking it was a trap, and I flew at him, moving to kick at his chest. I thought I was fast, and I was. Problem is, though. He was faster.

Catching my foot and twisting it around, he pushed me down on the floor, missing the mattress by a couple mere inches. He obviously wanted my face to hit the hardwood, which it did. _Hard_.

He straddled my back, sitting on my forearms causing me to whimper as his weight crushed me. Fisting a hand in my hair, he yanked back, my head snapping up. The hand that wielded his blade resting against the side of my throat. One small move and he would nick my jugular.

I froze, and even though I couldn't see him, I knew he was baring his teeth at me in a yellowed grin.

"Face it, ah, what's your na_me_?"  
I opened my mouth, and he tugged on my hair warningly. "Your _real_ name, buttercup-ah."

"Cassandra," I mutter, my head getting sore from being in this angle. My teeth were gritted together. "My name is Cassandra."

"_Cass-an-dra_.." He drawled, testing the word out to see if he liked it. He leaned over me and looked at my face, examining me, and then shook his head.

"No. I like _Sara_ better."

This man was absolutely infuriating.

"Continuing on, face it, _Sara_; me and you are in the same boa_t_. You probably don't see it noww, but you _will_. Eventually. And_ I'll_ be here to see it happen._ I'll be here to make you realize it._"

He released his hold on my hair and my head fell forward. I felt his body get off mine. I heard his footsteps fading away, and the lightswitch being flicked, followed by the door closing and locking.

The result of my head slamming into the floor one to many times hit me, and I closed my eyes, welcoming unconsciousness with arms wide opening.

My last thought, in the ever present battle inside my head, was,

_What if he's right?_


End file.
